


The Voice of Heaven

by alacarton



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elizabeth Trevelyan - Freeform, F/M, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alacarton/pseuds/alacarton
Summary: Elizabeth Trevelyan is staring down her fate, between the Exalted Council and her anchor quickly becoming uncontrollable, but that doesn’t mean her new husband is content to allow her to miss out on her wedding night.





	The Voice of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> My giveaway prize to the lovely @0102and03, who gave me the deliciously delightful task of some dominant Cullen. Thank you for being so patient with my ill self, and thank you once again for following my dumb blog. I hope you enjoy!

The Exalted Council seemed to drain the very life from her - the stares, the hushed whispers, the cloaked daggers behind such polite smiles. To be back at Halamshiral was bad enough, but the prospect of being on trial for both Orlais and Ferelden whilst simultaneously saving their sorry behinds was infuriatingly tiring. Or at least, Elizabeth thought so. Judging by the glee in the voices of the faceless masks that spoke to her on the dancefloor, it seemed it was an excellent spectator sport for the Grand Game.

_ Sweet Maker, it gave her a headache. _

She had managed to pry herself from the dancing and slip away onto the balcony of the Grand Ballroom. Even though she was still surrounded by whispering nobility, it was far less oppressive than the stark light of the dancefloor. Elizabeth had barely caught her breath when a hand found her shoulder. At first, it had startled her, but as golden eyes met hers, she relaxed -  _ Cullen _ . She could always count on the man to have impeccable timing, however the trouble on his face told her perhaps she would rather not hear what he had to say.

“Inquisitor. There has been an incident in the guest wing.” Cullen’s whisper at her ear caught her off guard, and she could feel the nausea rising - an incident at the Winter Palace rarely ended well. The bodies surrounding them must have been listening, and the urgent glint in his gaze told her this was not for conversation here. She answered with a silent nod, before winding through the crowd after him. Whatever it was, it had to be more important than  _ dancing _ .

Her pace quickened to keep astride of Cullen ( _ her husband, she reminded herself with a pleasant jolt).  _ He was no longer so gaunt nor tired as he had been on their last visit here, happiness and peace filling where lyrium withdrawal had once drained him, and although she may have been biased, wedded bliss suited him. Despite being in a place he loathed, the smile had scarce left his face since they had made their vows and the pride at which he stood beside her was hard to miss. The uniform suited him so well, the stark red of the material clinging to broad shoulders and muscle, and Elizabeth was almost furious with the current situation for not allowing her to appreciate it further. Surely a newly wedded bride could be allowed some time not to be at risk of death to enjoy her husband.

They climbed the stairs leading away from the crowds, until they found themselves in the deserted guest wing. As they wandered the darkened hall, and Cullen’s steps slowed, it began to dawn on Elizabeth, however, that perhaps her ever-serious commander had had the very same thoughts. She had been expecting bloodshed, death, further disastrous happenings but they most definitely were alone in the corridor, and Cullen’s earlier urgency seemed to have vanished. She turned to Cullen as he stopped, and the cock of his eyebrow, the very tilt of his head told her she was right. 

“I am starting to think there has been no ‘incident’ in the guest wing. For shame, Commander. You wouldn’t have tricked me into this little escapade simply to have me all to yourself, in the dark, empty corridor, would you?”

“Perish the thought, my lady…” 

Before she could reply that she did not quite believe his words, whatever self-imposed restraint her Commander holstered himself with had been well and truly tossed aside as Cullen pinned her to the wall, lips hungrily claiming hers. Despite an initial muffled squeak of surprise, Elizabeth’s hands wound around his shoulders, unprotesting, and leant herself into the strong muscle of him. Warm lips, the flick of a tongue, the gentle scratch of stubble against her soft cheek and it was all too short as he pulled away, a huff of annoyance leaving him.

“I am your  _ husband _ . I believe I should be allowed some time alone with you. What a pity it takes this to get that in this blasted place.”

“Is that what all this was about?”

“I figured if we are not to get our wedding night entirely, we at least should be allowed  _ something _ …”

“So I was right after all.”

“Almost. Not about the dark, empty corridor, however…”

In one move, Cullen had lifted her and slipped past an open door into the room beyond it, kicking it to close over behind him. Thankfully it was unoccupied, the embers of a fire flooding it in a low, warm light, and she realised it was a bedroom -  _ this was the guest wing, after all.  _ Her hands twisted amongst the golden curls, planting kisses at the very edge of his jaw as they moved, and her back met the silk sheets of the bed as Cullen laid her down, pressing himself to her as they kissed once more, her ankles easily locking at his lower back.

“Where are your manners, Commander? Patience is a virtue.”

“I am not a patient man nor, I suppose, am I virtuous.”

“What a pity for me…such a typical _feral_ Ferelden…”

“Say what you will to your Orlesian companions but I am certain you  _ love _ it, Lady Trevelyan.”

Elizabeth tapped a mockingly disapproving finger on his nose. “ _ Rutherford,  _ if you please. I happened to have been married most recently, if you don’t remember.”

“How could I forget? Watching you become  _ mine  _ was perhaps the proudest moment of my life…” Cullen’s hands found their way beneath her skirts to roam across her buttocks, down the length of her thighs, Elizabeth murmuring a response.

“ _ Yours _ indeed.”

“I have watched you pander to those faceless masks all night…” Cullen’s wandering fingers hooked at the edge of her undergarments, pulling them down to fall at her ankles before his fingers met her folds with little warning, lips curling into a smirk at her breathy gasp, “and thought very much about how better we could be spending our wedding night…a night that should be  _ ours _ .”

Elizabeth felt her knees weaken as he found the sensitive spot within her folds, and a sinful moan poured from her lips until he silenced them with his own once more, fingers working at a tormentingly slow pace. Years of pleasing her meant he knew how to unravel her with barely a touch, could read her as if she had spent her entire adult life in his bed and Elizabeth often considered that he may have devoted himself to pleasing her with the same dedication he did with all things in his life.

“ _ Quiet _ .” The low growl, full of purely  _ filthy _ promise, was enough to send warmth flooding to her core. “You wouldn’t want them to hear their Inquisitor, their  _ beloved  _ Herald, so obviously occupied, would you?”

Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure she  _ cared _ . She wanted more, she wanted  _ him _ , and her whine of a reply said it far too clearly. Thankfully, for all his confidence, Cullen’s lack of patience came to a head once more, and his hands made quick work of both his jacket, and the belt and laces of his trousers, freeing himself from his smallclothes with ease. He wasted little time in slicking himself with a hand, before burying his cock inside her in one movement, a deep groan slipping past his lips that ended with a sigh of pleasure as she surrounded him. “ _ ‘Liz _ …”

Her lips found his once more as she lifted her hips, urging him to move with her, It was everything she needed it to be in that moment - a distraction from the madness that surrounded them, a reminder of the vows he had made, a promise of something beyond all this pomp and circumstance, that they could be  _ just  _ Elizabeth and Cullen, just man and wife. She could think of little else other than the feeling of him, the gasp of pleasure at each deep thrust, and the grunts of effort mixed with the occasional salacious words at her ear that he muttered. 

Elizabeth could feel the edge of her finish beginning to grow closer, the tightening coil at the very centre of her as he moved within her, as his mouth left hers to find her breast, teasing the sensitive skin of it. But no sooner had she begun to ready herself for the oncoming wave of pleasure than he stopped, causing her to groan in protest as he pulled far enough from her to end the delicious friction. 

“ _ Cullen _ .” It was an exasperated whine, and one look at the smug face he wore, coupled with the amused chuckle, told Elizabeth he had full knowledge of what he had done.

“Oh, don’t whine so…” He flipped their positions with ease so that she now straddled him, her hands easily roaming across the expanse of chest and pushing his shirt up enough to expose taut muscles, littered with scars of a story she had come to know so well. Strong hands splayed across the back of her hips and buttocks, dragging her up the bed towards him until his mouth met her folds. “I’m not done with you yet, Lady Inquisitor.”

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered half-shut as a moan of sheer pleasure tumbled from her and as his tongue and lips worked, she swore that stars danced at the very edge of her vision. It was almost too much, but strong arms wrapped around her thighs, allowing no movement, and she could not have moved if she had tried.  _ Maker _ , anybody could walk in and see this..

“C-Cullen, someone could see-”

“ _ Quiet. _ ” His grip on her thighs tightened, and as he left her enough to speak, she could see the glisten of her arousal across his lips in the dim light. “Do you  _ really _ wish me to stop? You are certainly not acting like it…”

A shiver chased up Elizabeth’s back at his words -  _ he knew her so well, well enough to take control so easily.  _ His grip had not let up, in anticipation of the answer he knew was coming, and Cullen’s lips curling into a satisfied smirk at the shake of her head. 

“No.”

“No,  _ what _ ?”

His enjoyment only fueled her arousal - he was toying with her,  _ teasing  _ her. Certainly, she had fallen in love with the rather bashful man who had turned a magnificent shade of magenta at the slightest teasing, but with enough time for his confidence to grow, the lust for that dominant streak in him had become wild. For him to command her, to pin her down and fulfil every filthy promise he had uttered in her ear at an entirely too public meeting. For all his pious righteousness, Cullen was most certainly no saint. “No,  _ Commander _ .”

The low chuckle was all Elizabeth received as a reply, before he shifted her to meet her core once more, tongue curling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it was all she could do not to moan loud enough to alert the entire palace. Her hand dragged through his hair, tugging at the blonde curls, urging him impossibly closer to her, and this time, she knew there was no stopping the rush of her peak as it took her. It could have been minutes, perhaps hours, Elizabeth had no way of knowing, other than that as her toes curled in pleasure, vision whitening, lost to her release entirely, it was his name on her lips.

As the end of her orgasm came, Cullen had shifted again, pushing back up the bed with ease and filling her once more, a guttural groan slipping from him as he reclaimed his earlier pace. His hands seemed to be everywhere, her thighs, her buttocks, her hips. His careful rhythm slipped fairly quickly as he lost himself in her, face curling into pleasure as he found his release, her name almost a litany upon his lips as he stilled, spilling inside her.

Elizabeth was unsure how long they lay together, in the glow of the dying fire and their lovemaking, the soft beat of his heart beneath his chest as she curled atop of him. They had spent so many lazy mornings this way, in the peace and privacy of Skyhold, both afraid to move and break the spell that held them. They rarely spoke during these moments, instead adjusting to the slightest of touch, and the softest of kisses. She often wondered what he thought, what passed through his mind - was this the quietest his troubled mind often was? Had it been during one of these times that he had begun to plan to propose? 

“Maker above…” Cullen laughed softly, her thoughts returning to the present, the man sounding utterly spent before pressing a lazy kiss to the side of her head. “Anyone would think we had spent weeks apart, Lady Inquisitor.”

The cheeky implication in his words made her laugh, and she tilted her head enough to prod his chin, tutting in jest. “It is hardly my fault that my husband insists on being such an incorrigible tease, nor that he knows me so well…”

The arm around her drew her closer, and Cullen laughed again as he kissed her once more. “I like hearing you say that.  _ My husband _ . Almost as much as I adore calling you my wife.”

They enjoyed the peaceful silence for what could have been days to her, so unwilling was she to return to the despair that awaited them in the ballroom. It was, however, an unavoidable duty - were they not here to save Thedas once more? To prevent the world from tearing itself apart? How cruel it seemed to pull them from one another once more, yet she could hardly say she expected anything else. This was not Skyhold,  _ not  _ their home. They were very much in enemy territory and at that realisation, Elizabeth’s peace was shattered.

“I suppose we should make our way back to the ballroom, Ser Rutherford.” She sat up, brushing dark hair from her face. “Before the Palace implodes around our ears.”

“If we must.” The contempt in his voice told her Cullen despised it perhaps even more than she. They parted slowly, unwilling, rising to begin tidying and rearranging their clothing - if the walls at Halamshiral did not have eyes that had witnessed their moment alone, then stray hair, a ruffled dress and pink cheeks surely would. She would slip along the corridor to the washroom next to her quarters and tidy herself before appearing once more downstairs. That would give Cullen time to slip back in unnoticed, and for suspicion to be diverted. She looked back at the man himself, attempting to make unruly curls settle once more, and tutted with annoyance as she noticed a fraying seam. 

“Maker’s breath, I’ve torn the edge of your shirt…” As Elizabeth’s hand reached to pull at the loose thread, a surge coursed through the anchor upon her hand and a cry of pain left her, knees nearly buckling at the intensity of it. Cullen’s broad hand caught her, his face troubled as he pulled her into an embrace, and Elizabeth’s grimace gave way to nestling amongst the strong arms that held her to his chest, riding out the wave of agony. How long he held her, she wasn’t sure, the pain so blindingly intense but as it subsided, she gasped into the safety of his embrace. 

“Thank you.” His silence spoke every word that she suspected he was unable to, his only reply a tight squeeze of her, and Elizabeth turned in his arms to look up at him. “Cullen?”

“I…” He faltered, his hand moving to tuck an errant strand of hair neatly behind her ear, brows knitted together, before shaking his head once more, eyes usually so bright darkened by sorrow. Elizabeth hardly need ask what was troubling him so - try as they may, the impending fate of her anchor was an unavoidable truth. Cullen, for all his stoic courage, refused to speak of it other than in terms of  _ The Inquisitor -  _ as a Commander, he could plan but as a husband, he could barely face it. “I cannot help but feel I fail you.” Cullen’s gaze drifted to the anchor, eyes staring at the lurid green of it before meeting hers once more. “I am the commander of your forces, your advisor, now your  _ husband _ , I...The least I should be able to do is keep you safe. It seems I cannot even do that these days.”

“It is going to be okay.” She reached up to cup his face with her hands, thumb tracing his cheekbone as she brought his face to her, leaning his brow against hers, eyes closing. “Whatever happens, I  _ will _ come back, remember?”

A tut left him, one that said he remembered when this conversation had last taken place, and that he was no more comfortable or reassured than he had been that afternoon in the Skyhold chapel, and he muttered in frustration once more. “If I was not so utterly useless, if I could still  _ be  _ a Templar, if I had not given up lyrium-”

“ _ No. _ ” Her eyes snapped open, instantly pulling back from him as a flicker of anger rose in her. “Absolutely not. To lose you to  _ that _ ...we do not even know that it would work!” Elizabeth could see the argument in his eyes, the sadness that said he would have taken the risk gladly, and more, for her. “No... I would not ask it of you nor would I want it. We will get through this, together…” She wound her fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before offering him a wry smile, humour covering for the painful truth they both shouldered. “After all, we have a mabari to look after now. We can hardly leave him on his own.” 

Her joke broke his melancholy and slowly the twist of a grin tugged at his lips as he chuckled, before planting a kiss to her forehead, with a heavy sigh. “I love you, you ridiculous woman.”

“I am certain I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“Entirely possible. It is a battle I’m willing to engage in.” Elizabeth paused, glancing over their surroundings, before nudging him. “Who’s room is this, anyway?”

“I am not certain, however we should probably be gone before we have the chance to find out.” Cullen pulled a disgusted face at the thought of it. “The gossiping louts downstairs would  _ love _ that.”

A wicked grin curled across Elizabeth’s lips. “Ah, but you were all for public displays only ten minutes or so ago…”

The comment made instant colour rise in his cheeks, Cullen clearing his throat in an attempt to maintain some semblance of his previous confidence. “Yes, well. A different matter.”

“Oh, of course.” Elizabeth untwined herself from him, straightening her dress with a grin. “Come along then, Commander, before we are the talk of Orlais. We had better get cleaned up and return to the waiting court, before they suspect anything. And Cullen...” There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she tapped a finger to his chin. “We will have our wedding night, come hell or high water. That is a promise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
